How Far Can I Fall?
by Unkn
Summary: John needs Sherlock... Wants him... But won't admit it. Until drunk John arrives. After a night of heavy drinking, John confesses... Drunk John, johnlock, m/m, hard.


Sherlock? I need you, please love me? JW

Where are you?-SH

Are you drunk?-SH

My room, and maybe... JW

Don't do anything stupid, I'm coming up-SH

John smells of booze, rolling over, he drops his phone on the table next to his bed.

Sherlock went to John's room and went over to John. "I brought you some water. I don't want to hear you complaining about a hangover tomorrow morning."

"Sherlock..." John looks up, his face tinted red, his eyes slightly glazed.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked, frowning at John's appearance. "How much did you have to drink?"

"I'm... Not sure, more than a glass..." John blushes more. "I really like your eyes..." His voice a slurred whisper.

"I think it was more than a glass." Sherlock said in amusement. "What did you need me for?"

"I told you..." John stares lazily at Sherlock... "Please... Love me..."

Sherlock's heart stopped and he froze. He stared into John's face, trying to determine whether the shorter man was lying or not. Sherlock debated the pros and cons of telling John how he felt.

"I do." He answered, praying that John would be sober enough to remember this in the morning. He leaned down and rested his forehead against John's

"I do."

John, leaning his head upwards, planted a short kiss on Sherlocks lips. " g-good... Cuz... I reeaaallly love you..." he smiled a little, leaning up for another kiss.

Sherlock leaned into the kiss, grateful this had finally happened. He had been in love with John almost since he had met the doctor.

Becuase of the drink, johns movements were sloppy as he wrapped his arms around sherlock. John felt his blood start to run south.

Sherlock pulled away, gasping for air. "Not like this." he said. "Not like this. When you're sober." He repeated the words like a mantra.

John let out an uncharacteristic whine of protest, "b-but-" only to be cut off by sherlock.

"Please, John...when you can think clearly." Sherlock answered, he wanted to kiss John again but his self control would break if he did. He stood and walked out of the room, wanting with every step to go back.

Suddenly, it all hit John at once... How tired he was, how stupid he had been, and how right it all felt... Thinking about these things, John fell asleep quickly.

Sherlock leaned against the door and let out a shuddery breath. John loved him. well at least drunk John did. Who knows what sober JOhn would remember about this?

John wakes up... Oh BLOODY FREAKING HELL... John runs a replay of the night before through his head. He had kissed sherlock twice and gotten a boner...

Oh god... Suddenly, in the middle of his thinking, as though his mind just remembered he'd dranken the night before, John runs to the bathroom. This morning he became well acquainted with the toilet.

Sherlock heard John moving around upstairs and flushed, he remembered last night's events all too vividly. He pulled out his violin and began to play as he heard John coming down the stairs.

Groaning and slightly flushed, John walked down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. He heard the beginning of a violin piece as he got downstairs. John debated on whether or not to ask sherlock about last night, going with the latter. To not.

Sherlock glanced over at his...friend? no they were more than that. drunken lover? not quite and saw how disheveled and miserable he looked. Sherlock played his instrument louder.

Shuddering at the sudden increase in violin volume, John knew sherlock had noticed him. Walking into the kitchen, John got on his tiptoes to reach his favorite cup. Grabbing the kettle, a tea bag, and getting a cup of water,he got to work on his drink. John hoped sherlock wouldn't bring up what happened last night.

Sherlock watched John from the corner of his eye, the shorter man was showing no signs of remembering the night before. He decided that he would forget it...until..if John brought it up.

As John got his tea, he cleared a small space at the table. Casting a few nervous glances at Sherlock, who seemed to be entirely focused on his piece.

Sherlock understood then, John didn't want to bring it up. John wasn't actually in love with him. Sherlock abruptly put down his violin and left the flat. "I've got a case." His only excuse.

John looked as the door slammed shut. "... Ok..." He knew, for once, that Sherlock was lying. Any other person wouldn't have noticed. But after being with him for so long, John could hear how whenever Sherlock lied, his voice pitch went slightly lower at the end of the sentence. John stared out the window. His chest felt tight as he finished his tea.

Sherlock walked through London trying to clear his head. John could help him clear his head, just being around John made Sherlock calmer, more focused.

John decided to take a shower, shedding his clothes on the floor of the bathroom. Stepping into the hot torrent of water soothed yet slightly burned, helping him feel oddly calmer.

Sherlock was jittery, his skin felt clammy and he realized he needed his patches. He took one out of his pocket and slapped it onto the skin of his forearm after rolling up his sleeve. He calmed almost instantly.

Letting his skin soak in the water, John realized something, playing over his thoughts again. He had, somewhat, confessed his love to Sherlock. John felt his cheeks grow hotter then the water. He decided to get out, wrapping a towel around his waist.

Sherlock sighed and decided he had been gone long enough and went back to the flat, he also decided he had enough of this.

Walking towards his room, carrying his clothes in one hand while holding his towel in the other, John heard the door swiftly open and slam shut.

Sherlock paced around the flat, chewing on his nails a habit he thought disgusting but not caring at the moment.

John froze, "S-Sherlock?" He called down the stairs.

Sherlock was moving to the sound of John's voice and saw the man standing out side the bathroom wearing only a towel. He flushed, he had been so much more prepared to do this with John being clothed.

John blushed profusely, not expecting the sudden encounter only the quick 'yes' or 'no' of someone else.

He was slightly caught off guard, accidentally dropping the clothes and luckily not his towel. "O-Oh!"

"You should get dressed." Sherlock mumbled turning away. "I'll go make some tea."

"Yes, I should..." John whispered, quickly swooping down, grabbing the spilt clothes and hurrying to the open door of his room.


End file.
